RIP 1943 to 2020
by Jonathan Berger
Pete and I met at Camp Wabun in the early Sixties. He was a year or two ahead of me as a camper and thus a year or two ahead of me joining the camp staff. Luck would have it, by summer of 1964 we joined forces to staff the Cree A Section of 14-year-olds. Pete was head staff and I was the guide. We were a great pair. Both of us attended what would come to be elite New England Liberal arts colleges. He went to Wesleyan. I went to Middlebury. We both loved sports. Pete rowed crew and I played football and lacrosse. We both took geology! Most of all we both loved the travel and the camp.
Pete went on to become the head staff for the Wabun Long trip. I moved on to Camp Temagami to guide the Rupert. He went to graduate school at Columbia and started a 30-year career with Maersk Shipping rising to high office. I went on to the Peace Corps, then grad school, then university teaching, and finally information sciences in E- Discovery. Our paths never crossed, though over the years we had a minor correspondence.
“… wrote and asked if he could come on a canoe trip with me…”
By 2001 Pete had retired from Maersk. He wrote and asked if he could come on a canoe trip with me. I had of course never stopped paddling since I returned from the Peace Corps and was deeply engaged in doing the field work and writing for the Canoe Atlas. So we set out from Norway House to Gods Lake Narrows via the Ponask Portage route to Gods Lake. That trip, the first of several in the Gods River system, began 17 years of paddling together. We spent our late middle age into our seventies paddling the canoe routes of the Little North and beyond.
Our travels covered much of northwest Ontario and adjacent Manitoba, some Temagami trips, and one out of the box run down the Fond du Lac River in far western and northern Saskatchewan. On that trip the route ran just south of the Northwest Territory boundary and reached far enough north that the sun never set during the trip from Whitford Lake to Black Lake and Stoney Rapids.
We used a style of travel adapted to our ages and needs. In the off season, each of us in our daily lives trained hard every day. We planned a travel pace that we could maintain and our daily goal was always to camp early but go hard and steady through the morning and into the afternoon. We switched bow and stern every day. We rose very early, breakfasted, packed up and went on until lunch. We rested a bit and then went on to a mid- afternoon campsite.
“We never took any chances.”
We never took any chances. We passed up all the wide-open crossings to follow the shore line and on the very big lakes we were never more than a paddle’s length from shore. We scouted every rapids and ran only those that we were sure were easy runs. We waded, lined, and carried if there was any doubt. Both of us read the maps every moment we paddled. We consulted regularly during day as to the navigation. We used the Spot Tracker to broadcast our location. We carried a satellite telephone. We had meticulous trip plans as to where we should be and how to reach us and who to call to send in a rescue or a critical message (never happened). We staged re-outfits. We carried all manner of first aid equipment (rarely used). We watched the skies constantly and put into shore and found shelter with the threat of squalls, high wind, lightening, water spouts or other phenomena. We never travelled late into the day to conserve energy and avoid low light for camping or travelling. If necessary (on rare occasions) we called in a float plane to fly us around a real bad stretch of water or burn. We used the sat phone to stay in touch with home.
Before the trip started and during the trip I studied the maps and aerial photos for hours on end so as to be fully prepared with respect to the route and the match between mapped features and the view from the canoe. I spent a lot of time interviewing local travelers who had crossed much of the ground. Sometimes these interviews proved valuable. Other times not.
“The study of the imagery was particularly valuable…”
The study of the imagery was particularly valuable on routes where there was little information about portages and lots of big rapids. Here the air photos or satellite view on Google maps proved prescient. I was able to remotely scout potential portage routes. Of course, nothing matches on the ground scouting but at several locations I spotted necks of land that seem to offer by passes without having to deal with current and big water. When scouted for real each one proved to be a god send.
The older we got the less of the harder and unknown routes we did. We were ever mindful that it was better to be out there and be safe. If we did trips with lots of rapids we made sure we had done them before and we were very familiar with the water and the location of the trails. The last trip we did together was in 2017. It was three weeks long and we went all the way from Jutten Lake, located just north of the village of Savant Lake, to Fort Hope via the Savant, Pashkokogan, Albany, and Eabamet Rivers. We were both over 70. The trip is close to 300 miles in length. There are lots of rapids of all kinds. Much of the ground had been recently burned over. There are several long trails. And yes we had both done the trip several times before with others and once together.
“Pete and I made an odd couple.”
Pete and I made an odd couple. By 2001 I was a lifelong Democrat, a liberal, an orthodox Jew, with an advanced degree in ecology. Pete had become a rock-ribbed Republican with very conservative social views, fundamentalist Christian beliefs, and a far-right political view of the world. He believed that a supreme being had created the northern landscape while I believed that ancient sedimentary, volcanic, tectonic, and later glacial forces allied with changing climate accounted for much of the landscape we paddled through. In deference to our varied thinking on these and other matters we adopted a policy of never discussing religion or politics. What conversations we had revolved around choosing a campsite or a lunch site, Wabun memories, meal preparation, map reading, and route scouting. Most of the time we said very little as we both knew what had to be done on the campsite or on the trail and we had our routines and cooperation worked out and were flexible given changing conditions.
We said very little when we paddled except for conversation about the map view and land view and where we were and where we would go. I developed over years of travelling a method of map reading that allowed me to simply point to our location on the map with very little error. This happened no matter how convoluted the terrain. I just kept track of landforms that we passed without really paying attention. Pete came to rely on this “sense of location and direction” though he read the map and kept his compass out all the time so we could cross reference observations. The process did not go smoothly all the time but worked as we always got back on track if we had diverted from the chosen path of travel.
“Pete was my friend.”
Pete was my friend. He and I shared our common history at Wabun and a set of Wabun stories. We knew the same people. We saw the travel in the same way and we shared a great love for the camp. We loved to prepare for our trips and spent hours on food preparation and paid attention to classic items for the outfit. Pete always had a source for hard smoked slab bacon that we could carve up for the morning meal. He liked to buy it. He liked to treat and preserve it. He liked to cook it in the pre-dawn half-light.
We went a lot of places and followed a lot of rivers. Much of our travel was to familiar places with the exception of the several voyages upon the tributaries and main stem of the Gods River in northeast Manitoba. We kind of “discovered” the Gods for ourselves and the decades long evolving set of shared trip notes sent to friends and fellow voyageurs. Both of us had read Sevareid’s Canoeing With the Cree and I had a copy of Ben and Marion Ferrier’s Gods River Country. We had a sense of the country from the view of similar types of travelers as us though many years younger than we and whose trips were longer, harder, and more ambitious than ours. On both of those trips the paddlers returned to Norway House by going up the Nelson River, found north of the Hayes. Sevareid and Fort reached the Nelson by a difficult portage route through the Lowlands from the Hayes to the Nelson above tidal influence. The Ferrier party paddled out on to Hudson Bay from York Factory, timed the tides, and braved the vagaries of wind, weather, and darkness to reach head of tide. At the end of our trip, we skipped the run down the last of the Gods into Hayes to York Factory and flew out from Shamattawa to Winnipeg.
I know Pete especially loved the route from Norway House to Pimask Creek, to Little Lake Winnipeg, to the Hayes, and across the overland route to the Gods River at Gods Lake. We traversed the inland seas of Gods Lake from Wolf Bay all the way past Gods Lake Narrows to the Village of Gods River. We ran the Gods to Shamattawa.
I miss my friend.
It is in this spirit and memory of my friend that I present the Gods River Sketchbook. Please enjoy your trip down the Gods.
NORWAY HOUSE TO SHAMATTAWA NORTHEASTERN MANITOBA
A CANOE ROUTE SKETCHBOOK
Jonathan Berger in the company of Peter SpillerAugust 2005
On the Way to the Gods River
Route Itinerary
August 2005
- Aug 1: Pimask Creek
- Aug 2: Molson Lake Past Lodge
- Aug 3: Onamah Rapids: Upper Hayes
- Aug 4: Robinson Portage
- Aug 5: Max Lake
- Aug 6: Lake 207
- Aug 8: Asswampiswaum Lake
- Aug 9: Rest
- Aug 10: Vermilya Lake
- Aug 11: Five miles west of Gods Lake Narrows
- Aug 12: Narrows: Healy Lodge
- Aug 13: Gods Lake: west side; 6 km from Tractor Bay; 18 miles from the village
- Aug 14: East Side of Johnson Bay; Gods Lake; 7 miles from the village
- Aug 15: Gods River; 1 km above Okemo Rapids
- Aug 16: Gods River: Marshall Falls
- Aug 17: Rest
- Aug 18: Gods River; Sturgeon Falls
- Aug 19: Gods River: Big Bear Falls
- Aug 20: Gods River: Big Bear Falls: storm bound
- Aug 21: Gods River; Cheemun Rapids
- Aug 22: Gods River: Red Sucker Rapids; 2/3rd of the way down
- Aug 23: Gods River: Pesew Falls
- Aug 24: Gods River: 3 wooded Islands: 37 km from Deer Neck Island
- Aug 25: Gods River: Deer Neck Island: 12 km from Shamattawa
- Aug 26: Gods River: Shamattawa: Fly to Winnipeg
We flew to Norway House from Winnipeg. Picked up our canoe, previously shipped to Mr. Wilson who drove us out to Pimask Creek and the start of the trip. He regaled us with stories of the winter road and the reality show York Boat trip to York Factory that he worked on. The landing was a great place to start the trip. We had protected water, easy current, and an easy paddle down to the rock art site and the narrows before the big open water of Molson Lake.
Molson Lake is also known as Little Lake Winnipeg. Every trip we have made on the lake has been a battle with very strong south west winds with extreme gusts and high waves. In fact, we portaged over two peninsulas to avoid wide open stretches. First time thru we landed in the big swell and dragged the boat up. I spread out the packs to dry in the wind and Pete jogged off to the lodge to get a haul to the camp.
The river flowing north east out of Molson Lake is a tributary of the Hayes. It joins the Hayes below Painted Stone Portage and above Robinson Lake. The morning we crossed the last wide bay Pete drank his coffee quickly as we wanted to beat the wind.
There is a thousand yard well beaten path around Robinson Falls. Along its course we saw relics of the portage railway that dates from the days of the fur trade. We camped above the Falls and took one load over in the evening. Pete stood on my shoulders as we hung our packs up in a tree to avoid the bears.
From the Hayes at Logan Lake we carried up a stone hill into Max Lake and the start of the overland route to the Gods River. Both Pete and I had read Eric Sevareid’s classic Canoeing with the Cree and informed each other with Sevareid’s descriptions of the country crossed. It was August 5th, my 60th birthday. We headed up stream towards the height of land.
The waterways are narrow and lined with steep cliffs on the way to the God’s River. At the height of land lake Pete, up at gray light, braved early morning skeeters to make the breakfast fire.
Once over the height of land the small streams and rivers ran fast due to higher water. Tired like Sevareid and Fort and the Ferrier party we rested like they did on Asswampiswaum Lake. We found a narrow island with a beautiful moss and bear berry cover for the tent. Pete mixed up the pancakes and we watched the waves roll by.
A double rainbow the morning we left Asswampiswaum meant freezing cold portages on the Mink River around increasingly large rapids. The Mink pours thru Weshechewan Rapids and drops into Gods Lake after the route passes the wide open Vermilya and Touchwood Lakes. We dodged storms, made warming fires, and threaded hard to see narrows in fog and low clouds.
We got lucky on our trip up Gods Lake to the Narrows and the Healy Lodge. A clear northeaster gave us cool air and barely a riffle though we stayed the obligatory paddle’s length from the shore. More than 35 miles of paddling, in one day, took us from the west end of Touchwood Lake all the way to the Lodge. Here we picked up supplies, and chatted with Sam Healy and his Mom Goldie. We stayed a day in a warm cabin before starting up the big lake. Sam looked over our route and suggested we head up the left side to Bayley Bay and Johnston Bay rather than try the middle channel.
It is an inland sea out on Gods Lake. It is quite disconcerting to have for days at a time one view that is off the horizon and melded into the water. Even when it is calm it can retain the swells from wilder weather days before. Gods Lake has the reputation of quick vicious squalls coming out of nowhere. Duly warned we kept a weather eye. Sam told us the real name was Devil’s Lake which the early missionaries asked the locals to change to Gods Lake. True or not it does have vicious squalls.
Once out on God’s Lake Pete and I discussed whether to cut across a wide bay or stick to the paddle’s length recommended distance from shore. We stuck with the conservative approach. It seemed as if the water level on Gods Lake was very high. At the Healy lodge the seaplanes seemed to be sitting on the deck of the lodge. As we paddled north the next day just before Big Point, Pete looked at the map and said, “Heah there should be an island around here.” I had been tracking very closely and observed that we were actually paddling over it and you could see the tops of the trees under water. No lie! Up at the Point we stopped for lunch and just as we got the food out, a real squall came racing across, Pete let out with a “Here it comes!” and we both pushed our way into the spruce trees simply intertwining ourselves and our chocolate bars into the branches as the rain and wind swept across.
Right below the Village of Gods River the rapids start. Before we started down the rapids Pete went into the lodge and gave Debbie a call. We had battled strong cross winds on our way up from the Narrows and the community had built the fishing lodge right at the first rapids. So we could portage across the lawn and stop for a call and to buy some snacks. There are quite a number of runs on the way to Marshall Falls. At the falls, really just a chute with a big rock point on the right we camped and spent a rest day. Pete caught a very large trout and slowly baked and basted it and layered it with dressing over the grill as we sat around and took in the falling water. Above Marshall Falls is a long set of wetlands leading to a turn towards the falls.
Here is a sketch of the Kitchen where Pete baked the trout. Below Marshall Falls there is a lot of fast water.
To get to Sturgeon Falls, below the right turn, you have to get through Peter Burton’s Rapid and then Shorty’s Rapid. We always stick close to shore and so we wove our way down the left shore until we got to a rock point where we climbed out of the alders and decided to have lunch on top. Pete started a quick smudge fire and we munched our bannock. Up on top we sat on the rocks and Pete commented on the flow of the water and the view up and down river. Given varying water levels it can be quite a run thru Peter Burton and down thru Shorty.
Sturgeon Falls is passed by a flat well-travelled trail on the left side characterized by tall spruce and poplar. The campsite occupies the spruce grove. What a luxurious spot! The trail and campsite combined with a few cabins sited on the shore below Sturgeon Falls mark the end of the upper river and the beginning of the much less travelled route down to the junction with the Red Sucker River.
Below are Moose Falls and Big Bear Falls. At Moose, there is a very heavy rapid that leads to a bay above the falls drop. After two trips down, we both think that there might be a route on the right side across a point to get below the big rapid that allows you to paddle to the left side and intersect a sparse trail that ascends from a steep bay above the larger drop. We however stayed on the left – to avoid a swift current and a wide crossing – and scouted along a game path, across burned ledges to intersect the trail coming up from the bay. It is a bit of struggle with cross country navigation and aging voyageurs. Pete was a real prince as he went ahead on a compass line and scouted the route that allowed us to carry across the trackless burn to a point where we intersected the route coming up from the side bay. Loading up at the bottom, in the side wash, and down the steep wall proved to be a real challenge.
At Big Bear Falls we stayed on the right side and scouted a short trail across very steep and sloping rocks, through burn and over hanging trees to another very steep bay with another load and jump in – balance in the wash – and shoot down event. We cut a very small and compact campsite at the head of the portage. Quiet place with a view and the sound of real booming drop. The banks of the river start to get very steep as the run towards Red Sucker Rapids begins.
Below the Big Bear Falls we glided thru runs of current past burned shores. As soon as you get into a groove on the Gods an exception pops up. We got to a really large rapids that should have a portage around it but none was visible. On one trip I cut a trail on the left up and down hill sides to a side bay. On the high water trip I asked Pete if he thought we could wade the side as the water was higher than when we first went thru. Pete opined it was worth the look and I waded down the river next to the bushes. It looked good and Pete who was an expert at this stuff waded by the stern and I took the bow and we walked the canoe down to an outcrop where we had lunch. We loaded in the side bay and put on the life jackets. Pete always had a special yachting jacket, and then we shot out around the corner and down the last of the white water. A few miles down we camped at Cheemun Rapids. It was narrow and cramped but we worked at it and got enough room for the tent and the fire. I know Pete really likes this spot as the rapid falls in wide smooth slick. It turns gold in the late afternoon light.
Past Cheemun Rapids the river runs a swift course with waves but no real drops and some meanders. The Gods is trying to lull you to sleep because after a while Red Sucker Rapids starts up. Of all the places Pete and I have paddled thru I have to say he liked Red Sucker Rapids and Pesew Falls the best. To him this section on the Gods and the same on the adjacent Red Sucker were the real north. The area seemed to find a place in his heart. It has everything a bushman craves. You have the big wide river. You have the really high banks, almost but not quite a canyon affect. You have the miles of tumbling white water. There are interesting camping spots along the way. There are side routes behind islands and thru small channels that make it lots of fun. And finally, there is Pesew Falls, just an extended rapid but lots of open rock, and trout, and clear water. I think this place found a spot in Pete’s soul. He always had a wide quiet grin of satisfaction about being there.
We wove our way down thru the side channels and the islands to Pesew Falls.
The high banks that Pete loved so much.
Pete went out on these flat rocks and caught trout. We had a great campsite back up in the bush and we needed it as it poured rain and cold wind swept the river side. No matter Pete had on his thick wool jacket which he oiled and so he was always warm and dry.
Below Pesew Falls we had quite a few miles to paddle to get to the settlement and the air field. We went down a lot of wide shallow runs and tried to find a campsite we had cut on a previous trip down. We found the location but it was quite over grown and decided to push on to a set of three islands that I thought might be acceptable. Pete kind of predicted we would find a site there and low and behold we did just that. The locals had carved out a wide and spacious site in the spruces and all we had to do was get the tent and fly up and cook dinner. Pete was getting anxious or should I say impatient to get to the end and start traveling back south to Debbie. Mother Nature had given us good current and good water depth, would she favor us with a fair wind?
You know you are getting close to the village when you pass the high hill on left shore topped with unburned polar trees. Just beyond that is Deer Neck Island where we made our last camp on the right shore adjacent to the island. Here Pete cooked our last breakfast. How he loved to be up before the sun and revel in the fire light and cook the slab bacon and brew his what I called “raw” coffee.